Undeniable ©2021

"Titch you seen my glasses anywhere?" An all too familiar voice faintly echoed through my ears.

"Erm yeah." I replied. I Sheepishly raise my face up from a copy of cosmopolitan, just as Joel's eyes meet mine through the glass panel of the living room door.

"Titch, seriously?" He questions. Frowning at the chocolate brown frames around my eyes.

"Sorry I..."

"You thought that when I said you're welcome to use my spare room, it included the use of everything within its vicinity?" He interrupted with sarcastically raised brows.

"No!" I huffed, pulling the glasses from my face. "Its just some of this print is ridiculously small and well", I paused. "Your glasses work."

"I know, and thats exactly why they reside on my bedside table overnight. So that when I get up, I can bloody see."

I immediately felt myself flushing. I'd totally forgot that id sneaked into his room to get them. "Here." I replied, handing him the subject of conversation in hope that I wouldn't have to explain.

"So was I decent?"

Ah Jesus, he is literally grinning from ear to ear and obviously unwilling to let that little fact go unspoken about.

"What do you mean?" I decided to ask naively, rather than share the visual image of his bare arse peeking out from beneath the cover.

"I mean, did you get more than what you bargained for? Intruding into areas that are out of your bounds."

His complexion is glowing, he is proper enjoying this. "Oh, you mean of you. I didn't even notice you in there to be fair." I lied. "I was totally focused on the 'only' object of my desire."

Dropping my magazine down beside me, I stand up and flash him a cocky grin as I make my way past him and into the hallway. I'm feeling a tad proud of the way I handled that, it certainly wiped that smug expression off his face.

"Erm Titch, I'm not done with you yet." He calls out behind me. My feet stop dead.

"Look you've been here less than two weeks. Its been my toiletries, my slippers..."

I look down at my feet. "Shit". I whisper under my breath, staring guiltily down at my size 5's gripping on for dear life inside his size 11 uggs.

"And now you've taken away my eyesight." He continued. "We've got to put some boundaries in place".

I turn awkwardly to face him. "I'm sorry." My apology is sincere, I really am feeling bad. "Would you rather I leave?" I'm not sure i want to hear his reply, his face is already displaying a definite yes. Suddenly he bursts into laughter. I'm so confused, I actually think I'm going to cry.

"Come here you silly cow. Jesus Titch." He says, wrapping me up into his chest. "You on your period or something? I'm messing with you, you're just too damn easy to wind up and well you..."

He goes abruptly quiet, making me step back and look up.

"You look kinda hot when you get all flustered." He adds with an awkardness in sharing this unexpected confession.

"I'm not on my period and please, please, quit calling me Titch ". I inform him, desperatly trying to ignore what just came out of his mouth.

He called me hot. My god, he has never referred to me as even mildly warm, not ever. Not in the nineteen years I have known him for.

Joel was my late baby brothers best friend. They met at secondary school, become buddies on the first day, and went on to remain that way until two years ago. The 19th of February 2017.

I recall that date, sadly, way too well. It was a Sunday . I was walking up the path of my two bed semi, two heavy bin sacks hanging from each hand. It was just turned 11pm and I was feeling self conscious of the racket all the empty wine bottles were making, clanging around as I walked. It was chucking it down and the high wind blowing me all over the place was doing nothing to dampen the noise.

I spotted the old lady across the roads curtain lift, and got that regular feeling of embaressment. They all had the opinion that I was a wino in my neighbourhood, but I wasn't, I barely touched the stuff. This was my once a month clearout of my now ex partner, Nigel's empties. I'd load them into the boot of my car at dark, ready to take to the bottle bank on my way to work the following morning.

Aside from the weather being exceptionally mean to me, it really wasn't anything different from all the previous and numerous times I had fulfilled this reluctant duty. Until that was, I reached my wreck of a car and proceeded to open the boot. Just as I was turning the key, praying that the stupid thing hadn't jammed on me for the umpteenth time, my attention was taken by bright headlights of a vehicle pulling in, in front . It was a cop car. I froze, my hand dropping the one bin bag, still in my left hand. I've heard the stories, how they nab you for drink driving even if you are sound a sleep and not even at the wheel.

What if there's reminents of alcohol swishing around within the bottles id panicked. Id consumed a glass or two that night aswell. Would i wind up losing my licence , even though I've got no intention of putting this key anywhere but the boot lock?

I heard two door cars shut, footsteps drawing nearer and nearer.

"Good evening Madam". A hushered, deep male voice spoke at me. Glancing from one black sack to the other, I slowly raised my head. " I'm er, I'm just putting these in my boot then I'm off to bed, I'm.. I'm taking them to the recycle tomorrow." I stuttered nervously.

"You are Miss Donna Cousins, is that correct?" The same officer questioned.

I nodded, the look on both of their faces was sending chills down my spine. "Do you need to come in"? I questioned knowingly. The pit of my stomach had already informed me that something was really wrong.

They followed my agitated lead back to the house. "Would you like a tea or coffee"? I've no idea why id even offered, I knew what their answer would be. They were only interested in getting this over and done with. Cementing in the cause behind the sudden, heart-wrenching pain I was feeling deep in my chest.

My brother Darren was just weeks away from his 28th birthday. He was just a baby. They said that the entire train had de-railed. Three people had died, Darren being one of them. I was numb for weeks, months, to be honest, there's still a part of me that still is now.

Our parents had separated soon after he was born, we lived with our mum for a bit, but things didn't work out, so we moved in with our dad. Darren got on alright there, but I couldn't cope, so at seventeen I moved out. I can't say it was great, I was in a tiny little flat on a pretty shitty estate, but it was mine and I had no one to constantly answer too, so I was happier. My dad tried his best, but he had a temper, and although Darren wasn't quite as sensitive to it as I was, he did come and join me three years later after much begging to get our dad to agree.

I expected to lose contact with Joel to be fair, after all he was my brothers friend, not really mine. However, we actually became closer, which I'm forever grateful for, I practically helped raise him when he was a kid, he was over my flat more often than he was home. Funny how life turns itself around. Here I am now, living under his roof.

Nigel was a hard man to live with. I done five years, I sometimes feel id of been less scarred walking into freedom after a twenty five year stretch. It was Joel that finally made me realise that things were never going to get any better. So here I am, twelve days into driving the poor sod mad.

"Whoo Don-don, now you really are looking hot, you need to cool down girl, you know I have a habit of throwing myself into fire right, I don't wanna go getting myself burnt."

"Stop it." I tell him. Playfully slapping my palm across his upper arm.

"Don-don you hurt me". He laughs amusingly whilst rubbing the opposite arm to what I hit. This makes me laugh. "You idiot." I exclaim jokingly. With that I turn and make my way into the kitchen. Standing in the confind space of the hallway had suddenly started to feel uncomfortable, if not a little dangerous.

"Don-don.. " He calls out. His tone piss takingly desperate.

"Joel please, for God's sake. Just stick to titch."